The Three Amigos – take in a Stray Cornishman

Saturday 17th February

So I'm up and away from Coromandel town - maybe for the last time, ever - by around 10:00am in the morning. With camcorder affixed on its handlebar mounting, I scoot up the Coromandel Hill to the summit lookout, which is located around 4km above the harbour township. The purpose is to capture more twisty road footage for my next video project which will be entitled 'Everyday is a Winding Road' (music & lyrics sung by the artiste Sheryl Crow).

I notice three dual-purpose adv bikers parked in the lay-by at the summit. 'Bugger! Les stop an' 'ave a chat withum ... shell'us?' I think to myself in my bestest Cornish accent.

Almost straightaway I recognise a Yorkshire (but was in fact Nottinghamshire), a North American, and a Kiwi accent.

"You going on to Whitianga way?" I ask

"Aye" .. "Sure am" .. "Yis" were the curious replies

"Can I tag along behind you all .. and get a few riding perspectives for any viewers of some on-board video footage I'm shooting?" - pointing to my camcorder

"Bloody right thee can, but we’re just taking it right steady like" .. "Sure thing, why not?" .. "Yis, yis"

So off we set, the four of us, down the other side of the hill under a blue cloudless sky, taking each steep contra-curve and switchback one after the other. It was great fun ... almost intoxicating.

These guys are all very, very experienced riders .. I realised this within seconds. They made the whole downward spiral look effortless - As I struggled to keep up as I tow along in their wake .. entering more than a curve or two just a little 'hotter' [faster] than I normally would, on any given 'average' day.

'Don't forget the magic counter-steering technique, my son .. it could save your bacon with these chaps' I recall thinking to myself

We ride together for the next 40 km (25 miles) - all the way into Whitianga on the eastern seaboard of the Peninsula. But then we say our farewells; they divert into the town, while I continue to head-on down SH25 towards the next major seaside town of Tairua.

Along the way I notice a lot more bikes out-and-about than normal - must be summin' going on somewhere, I figured.

Arriving in Tairua by around midday - after another 40 kms (25 miles) - I decide that it's time for a spot of early lunch. I missed breakfast, after all - apart from my normal minimum two mugs-of-tea, followed by the mandatory mug of strong-and-sweet white coffee.

Just as I was washing down my platter of crumbed and fried mixed seafood with a cold diet coke, the Three Amigos pull-up right outside my chosen restaurant's stretch of road. 'Bloody coincidence .. innit? - I ponder and smile, 'Could'na spotted the Trannie; she's parked some 50 metres down the roadside .. AND it's hidden by at least a half dozen cars or so.'

So I jump-up and immediately invite my three newest-made friends to review the freshly shot video footage with me at my table. They seem impressed with the camera work. Within minutes we're all besty mates together; just all out riding around .. having fun on motorcycles, talking about motorcycles, in the warm mid-summer sunshine. Can't beat it!
:o) :o) :o) ;o)

From left -to- right:
Me - Darryl, from Whangarei, Northland (BMW R80GS) - Stan, from British Columbia, Canoedia (BMW K75) - Paul the JAFA, from Auckland, but originally from Nottingham, UK (BMW R80GS)

They're on their way to the annual motorcycle-racing event called 'The Battle of the Streets' in Paeroa, which is an inland township in the southwest corner and on the other side the Coromandel Forest and is about 25 km (15½ miles), as the crow flies, from the Pacific coast.

They ask if I would like to tag along for the company? - "Yes please .. that'll be just great" is my immediate response

Soon within the hour we're all bombing-off together again; heading southwards for yet another 40 km (25 miles) or so for the nearby surfing town of Whangamata, where I spent the night with Dave-the-merrycan, just last Wednesday, February 14.

We pull into the 'Settlers Motor Camp' in Whangamata

Better still (especially for my bank balance :o) the guys invite me take the fourth bunk of their pre-booked 4-man cabin in their Motor Camp lodge.

Serious boys' talk follows: Yakking more about motorcycles, telling yarns - and sorting out the world's problems. Only blokes can do this ... properly!

Then it's off to get signed-in at the nearby Royal New Zealand RSA club (Returned and Services' Association), which is a kind of parallel to the UK's Royal British Legion network of branches and clubs

After another pint of beer we enjoy some real decent cooked food. All you can stack on a plate, from a wide variety of cooked dishes and desserts, for just NZD $16 (GBP £5.74).

And just wot's my big sister, Sandra (or her Alter Ego perhaps?) doing here - huh? ... Can't help noticing that she's near the front of the queue .. AGAIN! The chap behind is clearly counting-up and figuring, with some obvious bewilderment, that this is Sandy's third time around the grub counters!!

It's all fantastic value for money

So says: Stan - Paul - and Darryl .. et moi

Outernet and unplugged

Friday 16th February

So remote from any regular civilisation, I spend a solitary night at the only 'Inn in Town' at Fletcher Bay; a backpackers' shack called the "Penthouse" located on a farmyard ridge, which is really just a tired ol' portakabin littered with the abandoned personal effects and fusty remnants of younger tenants past. There's no bathroom or toilet, and no TV. No complimentary carton of milk for a cuppa summin' neither .. :o(

There's just a bed with a stained mattress; some running cold water; electricity, a couple of wall lamps and a beaten-up kettle (vintage circa 1975).

Communications of any sort here are quite hopeless. You can't even pick-up a mobile/cell phone signal without riding back along the cliff edge gravel track for around 4 km (2½ miles). And the weather is starting to turn unsettled too.

But after a surprisingly good night's sleep I'm up by around 07:30am and knocking back a pint of black tea and watching my anonymous host milk his herd of cattle in the valley's morning wet air below from my 'Penthouse' suite. Could sure use some of that ultra fresh full-bodied unpasteurised milk right now!

After leaving a twenty-dollar bill in Farmer Giles' honesty-box, by 9:00am I'm heading back over the cliff towards the developed world ... through and alongside water, both of the briny ...

.. and fresh varieties

My 'no head for heights' has improved lately. Had to!

As I approach from the north towards the little camping ground at Port Jackson Bay the horizon suddenly turns dark. The threat of heavy precipitation seems imminent to me - so I pull over onto the verge and hurriedly climb into my foul weather gear.

But apart from a few spots of rain during a very light and short shower nothing really dropped out of the sky. So at Wangaahei junction, back on a tar-sealed road - but only for a very brief 2 km or so - I stop again and pack away my clammy overall jacket & leggings. I was starting to cook inside all that plasticky PVC-type covering.

Time to explore the eastern side of Northern Coromandel's bush-clad Moehau Mountain Range; again nearly entirely by way of gravel & dirt single track roads.

After around 13 km (8 miles) of bumpy riding, I descend firstly into Port Charles ...



.. then after a further 5 km (3 miles) Stony Bay comes into view.



I can go no further - Stony Bay is indeed the end of the line. So now after negotiating some tricky dirt tracks I reward myself with a few slurps of icy cold spring water from a nearby well. Gawd, I could really murder a nice cuppa tea or coffee ... with milk .. please! But one or two of these caffeine-laced delights will be my reward when I eventually get back to Coromandel Township later this afternoon.

So I retrace my tracks back south ...

.. but this time I divert across to the eastern seaboard of the Peninsula's northern tip and return to Coromandel town via Little Bay ...

.. Whanake Point and Tuateawea .. and

... Kennedy Bay.

The views above and midway between Kennedy Bay and Coromandel town are simply stunning, even with a shower-filled sky like todays. On a good clear day the sights from up here must be quite breathtaking.

Talking of showers - here’s another one approaching from the south; it’ll be upon me within seconds - there’s no doubt about it this time. But if I'm real quick I can get around this left-hand bend and duck under the outcropping cliff bush just around the corner, thereby avoiding another hurried clamber into my rain-proofs for a second time today.

I finally arrive back in Coromandel by around 3:30pm - and treat myself to a nice ham sandwich, two cups of freshly percolated white coffee and a large slice of homemade chocolate cake.

Then, after six hours of full on concentrated off-road riding, I suddenly realise that I’m completely, absolutely and totally knackered. Time to call it a day. Overnight somewhere here in Coromandel town will do nicely. Finishing early will allow me plenty of time to find an Internet Café too; get plugged-in and catch up on some pressing matters, like (a) Skypeing a few folks and (b) updating my blog.